Cold Ambitions
by VVhiplash
Summary: On the day after Christmas, a certain Deputy Mayor is seeking peace and quiet with a trip to the mountains. She soon finds out that mixing up luggage can be as dangerous as mixing poison.
1. Cold Ambitions: Prologue

Cold Ambitions: Prologue  
  
From Whiplash Productions  
  
Copyright Jazz: Swat Kats and all related trademarks are copyright Hanna- Barbera, not yours truly. Any other characters within the story unrelated to the series are copyright myself, unless otherwise stated.  
  
*Author's Notation: Well, I couldn't very well let the holidays slip by and not contribute some sort of seasonal story. Therefore, I bring you this little wing-dig to read over. It's all about our favorite blonde deputy mayor on a day after Christmas misadventure. It's supposed to be serious, but what the heck, you can laugh at it if you want. As always, feedback's welcome with open arms.  
  
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The bag was a sandy color, filled to its capacity with all her essentials needed for the trip. Its bulge was enough to send chills up the spines of luggage carriers, who were familiar with the crushing weight such a woman would carry in her suitcase. They all seemed to vanish in thin air, or so Deputy Mayor Calico Briggs thought. She switched hands frequently, trying to maintain a balanced flow of blood to each of her arms lest they try to fall off on her. At last, her gracious eyes met with the baggage check-in desk. Dropping her bag with an exasperated huff, she greeted the clerk with all smiles.  
  
The bag was a sandy color, filled to its capacity with cold hard cash. The bag with the rest of his belongings had been sent ahead to wait for him at the lodge. His eyes darted around the station, hidden behind dark sunglasses, but fortunately, no slob of a luggage handler dared pry the bag from the kat's cold, rigid fingers. He was a fairly tall tom, brown fur, auburn muzzle, wrapped completely and entirely in a long gray trench coat, with a matching gray fedora hat pulled low over his brow. Expressionless, his definite steps led him to the baggage check-in desk, where he dropped the bag to reach into his coat and pull out credentials. He acknowledged the clerk with a serious look and a hint of annoyance at the whole process.  
  
"Thank you, Ms. Briggs! Have a pleasant trip!" The clerk chimed, handing her a receipt with the ticket.  
  
Giving a slight nod of gratitude, the blonde she-kat turned around, as the clerk reached for what she supposed to be her bag and tagged it as such. The slight click of her heels could be heard as she next made her way to a phone booth. Putting in her change, she waited patiently for the dial tone and then proceeded to dial the number.  
  
"And your bag, sir?" The clerk asked, handing the tom his receipt and ticket.  
  
"This is carry on," He replied flatly.  
  
The clerk peered over the countertop to look at the bag. "Where is it, sir?"  
  
Instantly, the brown tom's gaze was to the floor. True, he had set it right next to him, but a moment later, he spotted it pressed up against the desk lengthwise. That fat idiot who had lumbered up to the counter next to him had probably kicked it. He gave a small frown and pulled the bag back out into view of the desk clerk. It was a bit heavier than he had thought.  
  
"Nope, sorry, sir, that has to be loaded into the baggage car." The clerk said, hoisting it up.  
  
Misjudging its weight, the clerk almost outright dropped it, which put the mysterious tom in a fowl temperament. He roughly took it from the dumb clerk's hands and hoisted it over the desk himself, letting it fall with a thud on the other side. Then taking the startled clerk by the shirt collar, he pulled him in close to his muzzle.  
  
"Be very careful," He growled in a murmur, but added, "With the baggage."  
  
Releasing his grip of the clerk, the kat tipped his gray fedora at the handful of passengers who'd witnessed his aggression and then hastily walked off towards the phone booths. He hardly noticed the she-kat from before in the booth adjacent the one he ambled into.  
  
"You got all that, Chance?" Callie questioned, adjusting the phone in her hand.  
  
"Yeah, Callie, we'll take care of it for you. I'll send Jake down to pick up your car at the train depot." The husky voice of the mechanic purred, "You headed somewhere for the holidays?"  
  
Callie smiled, to herself and openly, at the thought. "Yes, I'm going to a lodge up in the mountains. If I'm lucky, it'll blizzard while I'm there, and I won't have to go back to work for another two weeks."  
  
There was chuckling on the other end. "A nice thought, Callie. So, you're going all alone?"  
  
"Uh huh. I'm off for another week yet, so I figured I'd take it easy up there for a while. I hope you and Jake had a Merry Christmas!" She added.  
  
"Oh, yeah, we did!" Chance spoke, "Though I think Jake attacked that eggnog a little hard again this year."  
  
Moaning could be heard in the background, and Callie shook her head and chuckled.  
  
"Well, I'd better be off. The train will be leaving soon. You have that extra set of keys, right?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, we've got it handled. Enjoy your trip, Callie!"  
  
"Thank you, I'll try," She ended and hung up.  
  
"I don't care if there's been complications! Either you have it there when I come up, or the deal is off! I'm not gonna' put up with any more of your conniving, Malace! Either have it up at the lodge, or I'll take my business elsewhere."  
  
The tom slammed the phone back onto the receiver and just about plowed over the Deputy Mayor on his way out of the phone caddy. He mumbled a quick apology and hastily made off towards the train. Callie was more startled than angered by the kat's actions and settled her nerves by sitting down on a nearby bench. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop on the tom's conversation, but she couldn't help but catch the last part of it. Not wanting to prod into the business any further, she took a few haggard breaths, stood up, and primed herself as she as well headed for the train. What a morning this was turning out to be.  
  
After trampling over that poor girl, the mysterious figure's nerves were violently jolted. Had she heard? What if she told someone? Well, it was too late to do anything now, he reasoned, looking over his shoulder at the mess of kats in the depot. At the far end of the railway, he stopped. Peering over his shoulder and all around him, he noticed no one taking particular interest in his movements. Leaning against a pillar casually, he pulled out a lighter from his jacket pocket and fiddled with it. He lighted it and began mumbling incoherent jargon seemingly to himself. When his murmurs ceased, he flipped the lighter shut and pocketed it once again. The conductor called for all aboard, and the tom joined the mass boarding the train. Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw a flash of pink board ahead of him. 


	2. Part 1: First Impressions

Cold Ambitions - Part 1: First Impressions  
  
From Whiplash Productions  
  
Copyright Jazz: Swat Kats and any related trademarks are copyright Hanna- Barbera, not yours truly. Any other characters within the story unrelated to the series are copyright myself, unless otherwise stated.  
  
*Authors Notation: Alright, now that we're past the little prelude, let's get on with the story. Lemme' know how I'm doing, and maybe I'll actually finish this before the next holiday season. If we're even that lucky . . .  
  
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The train ride was boring and uneventful, compared to her daily lifestyle anyway. She found herself almost wishing a giant worm would take it hostage but just as soon shook off the thought. That's exactly why she was taking this vacation in the first place, to get away from the perils of Megakat City. The conductor suddenly appeared at the front of the car.  
  
"Approaching White Crest! White Crest in ten minutes! Approaching White Crest!" He bellowed, striding down through the aisle way.  
  
Callie let go a sigh of relief. "Perfect timing."  
  
Ten minutes later, a brown tom left the train with dozens of other kats. His expression was stern, and his eyes, hidden still behind those sunglasses, searched about the small outdoor depot.  
  
"Mr. Edwin?"  
  
The kat turned, to be faced with a short, stockier kat with a stubbly chin and a bowler atop his head. He wore a black suit, with a striped tie, and a stub of a cigar jutted out from the side of his dark brown muzzle.  
  
"Lloyd Renolph, you greasy little slime ball, where's Malace?" The tall figure asked right out.  
  
"He'll be here, Vince, baby! He'll be here! No need for name callin', okay? He's comin', okay? Look, that's probably him over ther- no, wait, that's a dame- but he said he was comin' Vince, and he never goes back on what he says." Lloyd rattled off, coming up to the taller tom, "Look, lemme' get your bag. Where's your bag, didn't you bring a bag?"  
  
Vince sighed, looking down at the round little kat before him. "Yeah, of course I brought a bag. Help me find the baggage claim, and then we can both get out of here."  
  
Snow was falling, and the boardwalk had already developed a thin powdery layer on its surface. Callie sharply breathed in the cold, crisp air, and watched as her exhale spawned a cloud of vapors to wisp out in front of her. Bag firmly in hand, though, lighter than she remembered, Callie made her way to the front steps of the depot, where she was lucky enough to find the rental car ready and waiting for her.  
  
"Crimany, kat! What all didja' pack in here? Gold bricks!" Lloyd fumed, heaving along the sandy suitcase.  
  
"Quit your bellyachin', Dorothy, or I'll send ya' back to Katsas." Vince stated, carrying the black suitcase with his personal belongings, "The car's just up ahead."  
  
Coming upon the black Cadillac, Vince popped the trunk and set down his suitcase inside. Turning to Lloyd, with what might have been considered a sarcastic scowl, he took the bag from the small dark brown kat and hoisted it into the trunk.  
  
"You're getting flabby on me, Lloyd!" Vince shouted, walking to the front of the vehicle, "Don't tell me Malace is letting you guys get soft."  
  
Lloyd shrugged his shoulders, tossed Vince the keys, and opened the passenger side door. "It's a heavy bag, okay? I don't work out, does it look like I work out? Sheesh, I really don't know why I put up with your lip sometimes, Vincey! Sound just like my mother, it's scary sometimes. I don't stand up to her either. You ever met my mother?"  
  
"Get in the car, Lloyd."  
  
Turning down the main street of the resort town White Crest, Callie couldn't help but feel transported to another world and another time. Her lodge would be a few more miles up the mountain, nearer the slopes. Yes, the Twin Oaks Lodge, one of the first and grandest accommodations to sprout from White Crest's tourist franchise. Callie recited the brochure pamphlet through her head again and again, while navigating the powdered, winding road up. Comfort, relaxation, peace and quiet, everything she was seeking and more. Her vacation was going to be dull, and she didn't mind one bit.  
  
"So what says old Frankie, anyways, Lloyd?" Vince questioned, turning off at the Twin Oaks exit.  
  
"He's eager to do business with ya's, that's for sure," Lloyd answered, cracking his window to drop the ashes of his cigar out. "He just doesn't like moving so fast. Like's to know more about his associates before he transacts."  
  
Vince smirked, gunning the Cadillac's engine into a roar. "Don't you trust me, Lloyd?" He asked with amusement, spinning the car into the Twin Oaks parking entrance.  
  
Lloyd remained silent, promptly reaching over his shoulder and fastening his seat belt for the first time in quite a while. Vince merely gave a toothy grin, shifting down to a more reasonable speed as they entered the underground garage of the lodge.  
  
"Calico Briggs. I have a reservation for the Pine Suite." Callie explained, setting her bag down beside her.  
  
The prompt, rather snobby looking desk clerk clicked over her keyboard in monotone, leery eyes going from Callie to computer screen. Callie bit her lip, unsure why the desk clerk had a vendetta against her.  
  
"Ah ha!" The desk receptionist suddenly chirped, startling Callie to death. "Your reservation has been confirmed, welcome to the Twin Oaks Lodge, Ms. Briggs."  
  
The receptionist's demeanor suddenly shifted dramatically, and she actually smiled at the uncertain blonde she-kat. "Thanks," Was all Callie could manage, taking her key and bidding the bellhop holding her bag to follow her.  
  
"I can't believe you're using one of those," Vince sneered.  
  
Lloyd had the sandy colored bag on a luggage cart and pushed it up to the front reception desk. "It's heavy, okay? I don't see you carrying it, Vince."  
  
Vince cleared his throat in annoyance and turned his attention fully to the snooty receptionist. "Reservation for Vincent Edwin." He pronounced, taking off his fedora but not his sunglasses.  
  
"Uh, Vince, baby-"  
  
Vince shot him a look that meant to shut his trap. And so Lloyd did, but not without giving an exasperated shrug of the shoulders.  
  
Giving those same unnerving glances from client to computer, the receptionist finally spoke, an icy edge to her voice. "I'm sorry, you don't have a reservation here."  
  
Vince looked at her. He then turned his head towards Lloyd, still emotionless. Lloyd took off his bowler hat and scratched his head. Turning back to the smug receptionist, Vince reached into his gray coat and pulled out a checkbook.  
  
"I'll take whatever room you have available. Spruce Suite, Evergreen, Cedar, don't give a crap what kinda' tree it is, I'll take it." He stated, his voice cold as steel.  
  
"I'm afraid we book by phone reservations only, sir, now if you'll kindly step away from the desk," The receptionist retorted.  
  
Vince couldn't help but crack a smile at that one. He turned to Lloyd, amusement and bewilderment evident throughout his features. "Unbelievable. Lloyd . . . just, unbelievable!" He laughed, pulling out his cell phone and dialing on it.  
  
"Vince, what are you-"  
  
Vince rose a finger to silence the smaller kat, lifting the phone to his ear. The receptionists eyebrow arched as the phone beside her blared to life. She eyed the smiling tom before her, all the while as she reached for the phone and picked it up.  
  
"Hello, Twin Oaks Lodge, may I help you?"  
  
"Hello! I would like to make a reservation for-" Vince held up his watch and looked at it, "The twenty sixth of December!"  
  
"Sir, this is highly irregular." The receptionist chided, still talking through the phone.  
  
"That's Vince Edwin, E-d-w-i-n. Now, how about looking up some available rooms for me, sweetheart." Vince stated, keeping his smile but losing the cheeriness in his voice.  
  
"Thank you very much," Callie gratefully tipped the bellhop.  
  
He bowed, leaving the she-kat to her own devices inside the large, luxurious Pine Suite. After shutting the door, Callie rested her back against it, looking fondly at the complimentary fruit basket on the inn table. Her first order of business, she decided, would be to call her mother and let her know she was there. Picking up the suitcase, she carried it into the bedroom and laid it on the bed. Pondering whether or not to unpack now or after she made her call, she ultimately decided to go ahead and phone home before rifling through her own things.  
  
"I can't believe you didn't make me a reservation!" Vince raged, the elevator doors opening. He stepped out, followed by the cart pushing form of Lloyd.  
  
"Hey, there was hardly any time to get me or the boss up here! You're the one making the deal, you should be the one making the reservations, bub!" Lloyd countered, huffing and puffing down the hallway.  
  
"Yeah, well, why don't you just blare out all our negotiations down the hallway while you're at it, loudmouth." Vince snarled, flipping the room key out of his pocket. "Here, room forty-three, the Pine Suite."  
  
"How quaint! I bet you get a complimentary air freshener too." Lloyd snickered, pushing the cart up next to the door.  
  
"I'll take it from here, Lloyd," Vince ordered, sticking a hand on the chest of the other.  
  
Lloyd nodded his head, holding his hands up as if surrendering. "No problemo! I see you want your personal space! I respect that. I'll just, ah, go now."  
  
"Lloyd, get this thing out of my sight," Vince grinned, kicking at the luggage cart.  
  
"Yeah, I'm alright, mom, just got here as a matter of fact," Callie spoke, standing near a window. "The view is just breathtaking. I'll be sure to send you a postcard. My bag? Oh mother, you didn't! Yes, of course I love your gingerbread cookies, but you shouldn't be sneaking things into my bag! Honestly, mother, I've got some personal items that need to stay personal!"  
  
Stripped of his jacket and an undone dark gray tie dangling around his collar, Vince unzipped the sandy bag set on his bed. He threw back the flap carefully and scrutinized over the contents. Reaching in, his hand pulled out a lacey undergarment meant for the opposite sex. An eyebrow curled its way up into an arch, and the shocking revelation suddenly became all too apparent. Hastily putting the article of clothing back into the bag, Vince rifled through it, knowing already that the money was not there. Carefully, he reset everything in the bag just exactly as he had found it and zipped it up. Scratching the back of his neck, still unsure what to make of the disappearance, he whipped off the tie from around his neck and tossed it into his own open suitcase on the floor.  
  
"The train depot. It must have gotten mixed up at the train depot!" He suddenly thought aloud, scrambling about the room. "A phone. I need a phone!"  
  
His desperate attempts at finding a phone in the room were yet in vain. Scrambling over to his coat, he yanked out his cell phone. To no avail was this action, however, as his battery had long since died from the minutes spent arguing back and forth with the front receptionist. Snapping it shut, he tossed it into his suitcase and proceeded to the door that joined his room with the room next to it. Opening his side of the door, he came face to face with another door that could only be unlocked from the other side. With a few smart raps, he listened in wait for an answer from the opposite side.  
  
"Oh, mom, someone's at the door. How should I know, probably the maid." Callie gave an exasperated sigh, walking to the room entrance. "No, mother, I'm not expecting any gentleman friends, now goodbye."  
  
With a slight chuckle, the she-kat hung up the phone and headed towards the main door leading to the hallway. Looking through the peephole, she was a bit surprised to find that no one was there. Thinking her nerves far more raveled than first imagined, she began to dismiss the knocking, until it suddenly started again. This time it was accompanied by a voice, and its source was distinguishable.  
  
"Pardon me, is there anyone in this room? I urgently need to use the phone." A voice pleaded from behind the door.  
  
Callie stepped uneasily towards the door she figured led to the adjacent room and slowly opened it. What met her eyes was a slightly disheveled tom suffering from a mild case of hat hair. His collar was unbuttoned, and his eyes perfectly covered by a pair of eerily familiar shades. He leaned against the doorframe with his right elbow, and at Callie's appearance gave a handsome smile.  
  
"Hello, I'm terribly sorry about disturbing you like this Miss, but I was wondering if you had a phone over here I could borrow. Mine seems to have been swiped by room service or something," He explained apologetically, taking his elbow from off the doorframe.  
  
"Oh! Yeah, sure!" Callie chirped, brushing a few stray bangs from her forehead, "These suite's actually don't come with phones. You know, the whole peace and relaxation treatment they promise. I'm only borrowing mine from room service temporarily. It's in the bedroom."  
  
"Oh, so that explains it! Thank you very much. I greatly appreciate this," He thanked courteously, stepping foot into the lush pine accommodation that mirrored his own room, "I won't be but a moment."  
  
As the stranger made his way into her bedroom, Callie couldn't help but feel that awkward sensation that she recognized him from somewhere. It had to be the sunglasses. Mentally going over anyone she knew who could possibly be that dashing, only a few names came to mind, and they were all accounted for elsewhere. Shrugging it off, she examined the fireplace, already turned on and crackling with heat.  
  
Entering her bedroom, Vince found she had apparently just arrived as well, for the room was tidy and her suitcase lay undisturbed on the bed. As he glanced peculiarly at that bag, with its strange likeness to his own, he picked up the phone and informed the desk to put him through with the train station.  
  
"Hello, yes, could you please refer me to your missing baggage department. It's very urgent. Thanks," He spoke softly, still inspecting the bag with curiosity.  
  
"Yes, my name's Vince Edwin, and I'd like to report a missing bag potentially at your station. A description? Well, it was a sandy color, I'd say about two and a half on a side and four or five feet long," He stated slowly, looking dead on at the she-kat's bag.  
  
It was quite similar, he saw, probably the same model as his own. "It has a flap over it, with a fastener that's slightly discolored, and the handle has black smudges in the grain." How odd, he noticed, that her bag seemed to have the exact same discoloration on the fastener and handle.  
  
"And on the bottom there's two clearly distinguishable letters that read . . .VE . . ." He trailed off, eyes locked on the bag. He almost didn't hear the associative give the formal line saying they'll check on it. "O-Oh, thank you." He hung up.  
  
Reaching ever so slowly for the bag, he checked the open doorway. No sign of the girl. Carefully, he tipped the bag up. Catching his breath, what he saw confirmed his fears. That was his bag in that room, and the girl's was probably what was laying on his right now. As soon as he discovered this, it all came flooding back to him, why that she-kat looked so familiar. She was the one at the train station, whom he'd stood to next in line and almost trampled over after his conversation with Malace. That, he reasoned, is where they're bags had gotten mixed up. He cursed those incompetent check-in desks under his breath.  
  
Feeling silly and childish about her fetish with who that tom in her room was, Callie decided to go straight ahead and find out. As she took delicate steps over towards her room, she was set to quietly enter, when his own body found its way into the doorway.  
  
"Oh, excuse me," He apologized, tipping his head.  
  
"That's who you are!" Callie suddenly exclaimed, taking them both by surprise. "I mean, um. . ." She blushed furiously, not meaning to offend him.  
  
He grinned, almost laughing at her outburst. "What you mean, my dear, is that I'm that scalawag that almost ran you down at the Megakat City depot, am I correct?"  
  
Callie smiled, averting her eyes from his face, her blush receding. "Well . . . yeah."  
  
"The name's Vince Edwin, and now that we're acquainted, I do hope you'll allow me to make it up to you, Ms . . ."  
  
"Briggs. Calico Briggs. But everyone just calls me Callie," She responded, looking back at him. She soon wished she hadn't. The look he was giving her didn't seem neighborly any longer. It was down right erotic.  
  
"Ms. Briggs . . . Callie, might I say what a pleasure it is to meet you," He spoke smoothly, his voice suddenly becoming very sultry.  
  
"Yes . . . Nice meeting you too, Mr. Edwin." Callie replied uneasily. Just where exactly those eyes of his were directed, hidden behind those dark shades, Callie feared to guess.  
  
He was looking into her eyes. She was becoming nervous, possibly frightened now by his presence in the room. As well she should be. Slowly inching his way up to her, he maneuvered his body so it was almost touching hers.  
  
"Please, Ms. Briggs, just call me Vince. Everyone does." He breathed, his face inches away from her.  
  
Her throat was dry. "All . . .Alright . . ." She managed to squeak, frozen by his gaze. Terribly confused by this sudden change in temperature, Callie failed to notice the tom's right hand slide behind his back.  
  
In his bag, Vince had taken the liberty to remove from it a particular piece of equipment he never left home without, especially with a quarter of a million in tow. Tucked into the back of his pants, he reached for it now, groping his finger about the trigger and clasping his hand around its metallic frame. Sliding it out carefully, his eyes darted from the unsuspecting she-kat to the door. He'd make it quick and painless. Whipping the gun from behind his back, he stifled the girl's startled breath with his hand and fired. Callie slumped to the floor, motionless where she lay.  
  
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To be continued . . . hopefully . . . 


End file.
